


Super High School Level Cowboy (Position)

by Savorysavery



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Cowgirl Position, Drooling, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Smut, Squirting, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, trans headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery





	Super High School Level Cowboy (Position)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [despairmom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=despairmom).



**Summary:** Hinata's a boy of simple pleasures, his favorite being bouncing on Komaeda's lap.

 **Rated:** Explicit/NC-17

 **Genres:** Romance, Smut, Fluff

 **Warnings:** Anal Sex/Penetration, Kissing, Drooling, Lots of colorful cursing

 

 **Author's Note:** So, I found the most wonderful blog on tumblr today: despairmom, who is clearly a fan of komahina. This is the first in a slew of fics inspired by some of their prompts: this fic, in particular, is inspired by **[this prompt](http://despairmom.tumblr.com/post/140211132796/this-is-unoriginal-for-me-but-sitting-back-lazily)** here which had my attention at "Hinata riding" because riding!Hinata is a wonderful thing. Set in a post-despair future, let's dive in, because Hinata certainly is about to. Also, more second person Komaeda because it's really fun to write.

* * *

 

You're sitting back against the couch when you realize that  _yes_ , Hinata is  _very_ serious about this.

This, of course, being that  **something** you  **had** to mention weeks ago.

You were tired that night, mind sluggish from drinks with Gundam and Kazuichi, a night where you could only laugh, and laugh, and laugh, the rush of hope present as you clinked glasses. Normally, you don't like to drink, finding alcohol harsh no matter the flavor, but tonight, you indulge the boys and join them over a mountain of fried food and seemingly endless glasses of shōchū and sacchrine fruit juice. After six glasses of it, you were spinning, and after being carried back to your apartment -you and  **Hinata Hajime's** apartment- you were sure you were drunk, and that loosened your tongue enough to make a confession.

"You....you know," you began, light voice low, grey-green eyes dark, pupils a wide, black circle. "I'd really like something, Ha-ji-me." His name came out like a song, a staccato three _mora_ that dance on the tip of your tongue.

"A drink?" Hajime supplies, and his green eyes -you  **remember** this so distinctly, even now- were bright in the dim light of your shared bedroom. "Like water?"

"No, no,  _no_ ," you whined out, turning onto your back. You snaked your hands down your body, touching your chest, walking your fingers down to your hips, and pause, ghosting over your crotch. "I want you to  **ride** me. Like, no matter the place: I just wanna be inside you, and watch you get off. That'd be....be _hot_..."

Hajime chuckled at that, and that's all you remember: a laugh, a whispered reply, then waking up the next evening with a massive headache, and Hajime feeding you rice gruel and cool water before letting you sleep the rest of the day, body all out of whack from too much alcohol and too little luck.

But you also remember what you told him, and that brings you to  **now** , back to the moment.

Hajime is hovering over you, blocking the television, but you don't lean to either side: you just stare at him because his hand is grasping your erect cock, and it's so warm that you can't even  **begin** to figure out what to say. You wonder how he got your pants undone so quickly, how he managed to undo the fly and pull you out, get you wet for him so quickly, but then he squeezes, and you groan, slumping down even more. It's as if you can feel Hajime's hand through the strap on in your pants, as if you can feel him gripping you directly, and it makes you flush dark pink, thrusting up lazily into his grasp.

"Hey, Nagito," Hajime begins, and he's leaning so close, bowed over so that his face is right in yours, nose nudging at your cheek. "Can I  **play** with you?"

"...Play with me, Hajime?" you reply, and you tilt your head, Adam's apple bobbing as you gulp down your nerves. You're not sure why you do feel nervous: this is not a new act. You all have been sleeping together since you woke up from your digital coffin, since you got enough strength -of heart, of mind, of awareness of the world- to engage in  **this**. Yet seeing Hajime, drooling already, has you on edge in the  **best** of ways, and it makes you want to say more than what you just did.

Hajime senses that, and he smiles, nodding eagerly. "I want to... follow through on what you mentioned two weeks ago. Me riding you?" His voice hitches up, and you sense his nerves too, but he's being so forward that it makes you slump more, couch threatening to  **devour** you. "So... can I?"

"Mmm-hmmm" is all you can manage.

Hajime smiles and stands up, shimming out of his tight jeans, yanking down his boxers, and removes his shirt, folding them over just so -hell, that's  **foreplay** for you by this point, and it works, making you wet   _just a **bit**_ more- and then he's back on you, grinding on your cock and whimpering, rubbing his slit along the hard silicon. You feel a nudge and there's a  **sucking sound** , and you're sliding inside of Hajime's  **moist** folds. 

For a moment, you think it'll be this: you filling Hajime up, watching with drool  **creeping down your cheeks** as he gets off again, and again, and again, and you're content to do that, sitting here and just letting your boyfriend do you as he wants. But then something electrifies the air and all of the sudden, Hajime's off your with a wet  **pop** and you're nudging something a lot  **tighter.**

You feel your eyes widen, lashes batting as Hajime arranges himself, and suddenly, he's sliding down on that cream tone strap-on, anus flexing and  **chomping down** on you until his bottom is flush with your lap. Hajime lets out a  **loud** keening cry, and you can't help but buck up into that  **hot and tight and so, so delicious heat**  and that only makes Hajime respond with an  _even louder_ moan that has you fully relaxed, arms akimbo and ready to watch him  **go.**

He bounces once, then twice, and then he's adjusting, picking up speed until he's moving at a regular interval. You can smell the heat coming from his crotch, can smell the sticky, gummy wetness of fluids pooling, seeping into your own crotch as he grinds, but you're so zen right now that you don't care: clothes can be cleaned. Hajime is  **clearly** enjoying himself, hands creeping up to touch his chest, pinching pink nipples and rolling them in-between his thumb and index finger. "A-ah, N-Nagito," he manages to huff out, and he clenches and bounces  **hard** , and it rattles something in you, making you let out a shuddering whimper. "You feel so  _good_ ," Hajime moans out, and it a string of drawn out words, and his head rolls back and he shudders hard, letting out a yip of a scream, and you feel the wetness on your lap grow, dampening again.

"Fuck, Nagito, you're so **hard** and so **thick** and it feels so **rough** , just like I like it," Hajime says moments later, and he bounces harder, speeding up, his hands gripping at his breasts. He whimpers and you look up -finally- to see him smiling, green eyes dark. That smile stays as the wetness grows again, and you're honestly not sure if he's orgasmed yet: he's just so  **wet** and so happy that you don't want to ask.

You just want to watch.

He gets wetter and wetter and you find your own boxers damp and moist, and your hips are bucking every once in a while, reacting to Hajime's enthusiasm. He's not stopping any time soon: his enthusiasm is endless, and he's only getting wetter, body shuddering with ever bounce and slide of you inside him. It's leaving him breathless, cheeks flushes as his excitement reaches a fever pitch, and suddenly, he leans forward once more, panting heavily.

He grabs at your jacket, fingers digging in, and he's kissing you, a breathy action that's all messy lips and sticky cheeks, and you respond, letting him coax your tongue into the act, teeth clacking painfully as your noses nudge, heads canting to get deeper and deeper. It's the kind of kiss you relish, pure desperation from both ends, all backed with Hajime bouncing  **hard** on your lap.

 

"You feel so  _big_ ," Hajime breathes out, and his head rolls back, hands gripping the collar of your jacket even tighter. He lets out a mewling whine and shifts, rising up and tensing a bit again, letting out a shuddering moan. You smell the very  **heat** of him rise, and know he's come, and you're loosing count because was that the first time, or the fifth? 

Honestly, does it really matter? you think. Hajime's on  **you,** and he's  **kissing your neck** ,  and he's riding you  **so. damn. hard**. that it doesn't matter because now, you're all the way in deep, and you can  **feel** yourself inside of that clenching hole, and you're  **damn sure** that he's orgasming, squirting into your lap as he shudders and screeches out your name, begging for more, hoping you won't stop him.

So you let yourself get lost: let yourself focus only on  **him** , on the next orgasm  **pooling in his gut** , on that slick line of drool  **trickling down his left cheek** , and on the buzzing,  **bright** words: "This is the best thing I've ever felt." And you feel so  **lucky** , like you're playing Russian roulette and you know you'll always win, and you grasp that feeling, letting out a pleased moan alongside the string of babble falling from Hajime's red, bruised lips.

Because what's luck if you don't use it?

It certainly isn't Hajime bouncing on your lap, so let's just focus on that.


End file.
